Elei ned Îr Mín
by TheTV-Junkie
Summary: After a chance encounter in the wine cellar, Legolas begins to lead a strange double life in his dreams at night, where he submits to sexual perversities and degradation at the behest of his father... and it isn't long before he has a little trouble keeping both lives separate.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created by JRR Tolkien and owned by whoever may hold the rights in this very moment you're reading this, various publishers and their corporate affiliates. All recognisable characters/situations/events happening are copyrighted by their respective owners. No money is being made from this fic and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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 **A/N:** This is a co-authored work by pippychick and TheTVJunkie.

 **Chapter 1 - In Vino Veritas**

For centuries now, Thranduil had a habit of getting drunk at the evening feast. He drank wine as if it was water, until he ended up slumped upon his throne. Yet, being as he was the last great ElvenKing of Middle Earth, he never appeared lost or pathetic. Indeed, he kept his arrogant, regal bearing no matter how drunk he became, and to his son, he was an example to follow.

Legolas was this particular night keeping a close watch on his beloved _ada_ , though Thranduil did not know it, and he attempted to match the King with each goblet of wine he consumed. He had the strangest need to emulate and to be worthy of his own father's attention, yet he failed. Not in the drinking. In that, he at least kept up; but while Thranduil merely became a little more animated and subdued by turns, Legolas became slightly insensible.

He spent the feasts amongst his friends, and they, seeing him drink so freely only encouraged him. They made so much noise around him as they egged him on, Legolas was surprised he hadn't drawn his father's attention.

"I drink wine all the time!" Legolas announced blithely, trying to capture the same arrogant attitude as his father, but instead seeming childish and immature to the servants who attended him. To his friends, he was the Prince, and their greatest archer. They only laughed at him and wondered whether he would retire before losing consciousness. Some of them had already drawn lots to see who would help the drunken Prince to bed later on.

"My father the King has some wonderful casks in his private cellar," Legolas continued, hiccuping.

"Where? Get us some!"

Legolas smiled as all of his friends shouted at once. They coalesced into one resounding chant. "Legolas! Legolas! Legolas!"

"All right then!" he announced, as imperiously as he could, standing up and swaying dangerously on his feet. "I will go and get it. But I must go alone." At this, there was a resounding groan of dismay, but Legolas would not be convinced. In a small part of him, he resolved that if he were to be caught, it would be much better for his own reputation if he was caught in the act alone.

Picking his way daintily through the feast, he crept past his father's throne and into the palace, heading for the cellar, where he had indeed been able to filch some of his father's treasured vintages before. He would decant a couple of bottles and take them back to his table. His friends would be astounded!

Being as it was dark with the one candle, and he was very drunk, Legolas stumbled around in the cellar for a full five minutes, looking for one of the special barrels of wine his father treasured so much. Then, hearing a noise behind him, he snuffed the candle out and dived into the gap between two kegs, hoping whoever it was would leave quickly. Surely it was just a servant come to get more of the ordinary wine served at the feast.

Yet Legolas couldn't have been more wrong in his expectation of a random dutiful servant stocking up on drinks. What the Prince came to hear was a servant indeed, that much was true. However, it was pretty obvious that that Elf's appetites did not run towards the swill that was regularly served to the commoners, nor the fine drop Thranduil saved for nobility.

Oh no, this was the tell-tale demeanour of an Elf, or rather two Elves, getting it on in the secrecy of the vast wine cellar!

Legolas rolled his eyes, listening to the slurred whispers and tipsy giggles that left the servant's lips between hiccups; he was clearly smitten with his silent partner. From his current angle, the Prince could not see the pair though, nor was interested in witnessing their imminent coupling, so he tried to remember which barrel held the secret exit and would allow him to leave without causing an awkward stir.

Silently, Legolas began to crawl towards the next keg when he suddenly hearkened. A shudder ran down his spine as he recognised the deep, baritone tone of voice of his father whispering sweet, filthy nothings to the still giggling servant, identifying the Elvenking as the mysterious lover.

Legolas froze in shock, and prayed his tipsy mind was playing tricks on him.

Suddenly sober, he crept silently closer, hidden in the shadow, until he could peek out to make certain. His heart thundered when he saw his father, a wicked and indulgent smile on his face as he pulled the servant close. For the moment, Legolas could not recall his name… Celebfîn! That was it. He only remembered because he bore an uncanny resemblance to Legolas himself.

Now his father was holding up a blindfold, and Celebfîn sighed. "You never truly want to be with me, do you?" he asked. Legolas was completely mystified. Whatever could he mean? Yet he continued watching, and the scene became even more bizarre as his father allowed Celebfîn to put the blindfold on _him_.

"Indulge me," Thranduil said. "As you have done so many times." He put up his hands to the blindfold. "My loyal servant, Celebfîn, I do appreciate you." As he finished speaking, he drew the servant forward into a deep kiss. Legolas could see his father's tongue, wet and thick, plunging deep into Celebfîn's mouth.

" _Aran nín_ ," Celebfîn said, when Thranduil pulled back, his voice hazy with lust and pleasure. It had only been a token protest after all. Legolas began to feel like an intruder now. His curiosity had been satisfied, he should find a way to escape this place before he became a voyeur in truth, and yet… this was his father as Legolas had never seen him, and he found himself breathless as he watched, unable to summon the will to move.

In one sudden movement, Thranduil turned the servant around and bent him over a barrel that was stood on end in the centre of the floor. It was used as a makeshift table, but it was just the right height for Thranduil to roughly pull down the legging and expose Celebfîn's body, or at least the part that was important.

There was the sudden slap of a palm on bare skin, and Celebfîn cried out, his hands gripping the edge of the barrel tightly, so that the knuckles of his fingers were white. His elbows were jutted out to either side of him, but he did not move away.

"I will take you in front of my entire court," Thranduil purred. "Perhaps that will teach you a lesson… and your place."

Celebfîn sobbed as he murmured a hasty assent, and then there was another noise - a kind of wet squelching. Legolas almost gasped out loud, realising his father had produced oil from somewhere and was now… his mind refused to think of it so graphically. Though he knew of it, indeed he had been tutored in the act of love, the practice of it was forbidden to him.

Even though he had come of age, his father had explained the terms of his Princely duties to him in no uncertain terms, one of which was to marry for political purposes when a suitable partner was found. That did not in itself preclude the act of taking a lover, but by the time Legolas came of age, he found his companions in the border guards did not suit his taste. They were all dark elves of the wood, and he found himself wanting elves who resembled his own Sindar heritage. Celebfîn was an elf he had harboured secret fantasies over, which was probably one of the reasons he could not look away.

To think that his father was touching Celebfîn so intimately made him feel hot in the confined space, and his leggings felt restrictively tight. There was another loud slap that made Celebfîn jolt in his place, and Legolas felt the sound in his cock. His father was alternating his touch with that punishment. It was so erotic to the young Prince he almost swooned.

"I want you to imagine them all watching as I ease my lust inside your sweet body," Thranduil said, and then he made a suggestive move forward which caused Celebfîn to cry out. "You will provide for my pleasure, and their entertainment."

"Yes, _Aran nín_ ," Celebfîn said, and Legolas left off watching his father to look to the servant. He had the strangest look of rapture on his face as his father fucked him, and then he blinked his eyes open, and they widened when he caught sight of Legolas, hiding between the barrels.

Legolas scurried back, his heart beating so heavily now it almost hurt. He had been careless; seeing his father blindfolded had made him feel safe to observe. He hadn't even given a thought to Celebfîn being a witness. And yet, Legolas pressed a hand to his own hardness, stifling a groan.

"If they will watch me taking your cock, they will get pleasure from it too," Celebfîn said, his voice shaking, and Legolas realised he could hear the thrusts Thranduil was giving him.

Slowly, Legolas crept forward again, wide-eyed, his gaze locked on Celebfîn. The servant smiled at him in some kind of terrible, wicked conspiracy.

"Indeed they will," said Thranduil, clearly getting into the fantasy. "They will touch themselves while you moan and cry out at my treatment of you." He made his movements deeper and harder, so that Celebfîn did indeed cry out, his eyelashes fluttering as the barrel scraped along the stone floor in little jolts.

As if his father had given him instruction, Legolas began to caress himself, unable to help it at the sight of the scene playing out before his eyes. When he could spare the time, Celebfîn nodded at him, encouraging, promising Thranduil he existed only for pleasure, that he was the King's slave in this matter, that he wanted nothing else until his end but to satisfy the entire realm.

They were such dirty things, to speak of them out loud! Legolas could not contain a slight indrawn breath of shock and dark pleasure at the thought of Celebfîn taking every cock in the court, one by one, with Thranduil as overseer.

"But perhaps if you please me so well, I will not share you. Only exhibit your obedience to them all as an example to follow. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, _Aran nín_!"

"I would take you openly in front of visiting elves. Galadriel and Celeborn. Lord Elrond. And you would beg for my cock, wouldn't you? Like a good slave, well trained and tamed to my desire."

Thranduil's words were so sinful, Legolas felt the spell of them keenly, and he knew his own release was near, even though he and Celebfîn watched each other. But then there was a wicked glint in Celebfîn's eyes, and he threw his head back, exposing the slender column of his throat and adam's apple.

" _Ada_!" he cried out, when the moment was upon Legolas, and his body reacted as if on cue, breaking and soaring as his own eyes leapt to Thranduil, seeing his father lose it too at the address. Legolas was floored, literally. As the last pulses of his climax slowed he fell bonelessly onto the stone floor. Did his father fantasise of this? He must! Legolas felt dizzy from more than the wine he had consumed, from more than his orgasm, and from more than his witnessing of this scene. His father wanted him - like that! His mind swam.

"Be careful you do not go too far, Celebfîn," chastised Thranduil. "You are not he, and I do not ask you to impersonate him, only let me imagine what I will as I take you."

Now hidden again in the shadows, Legolas heard the slick sound of their bodies as Thranduil pulled away, and the rustle of material as he removed the blindfold. "What is this?" he asked in surprise. "You have come already? Usually, I have the pleasure of teasing it from you."

"I am sorry, _Aran nín_ ," Celebfîn said. "But the fantasy was so compelling, and your cock felt so good, I could not help it."

Legolas stayed in his place, hardly daring to breathe, move, or even think. They wandered out, speaking in low murmurs to each other, and still Legolas remained motionless and silent. How could he go back to the feast and face his father now? How could he look at Celebfîn?

Eventually, Legolas left the cellar too, finding a servant - not Celebfîn - to make his excuses to his friends while he fled to his room. He made his usual preparations for bed, but when all was done he laid there wakeful until the early hours of morning, pondering on what he had seen, and heard. Eventually he fell into reverie, but his dreams were no more forgiving than his observation earlier. In fact, his dreams were worse, seeing as he and Celebfîn had somehow exchanged places in them...

To be continued…

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 **Authors' Note:** Thank you for reading, we hope you're enjoying it. Comments and kudos will be cherished!

 **Translations:**

 _Aran nín -_ my King

 _Ada_ \- Dad/Daddy

 _Elei ned Îr Mín -_ Our Dreams of Sexual Desire

 _In Vino Veritas_ \- In Wine There is Truth


	2. Dream A Little Dream of Me

Legolas tossed and turned fitfully in his sleep, the images of his earlier discovery haunting him with vivid dreams.

There he was, in Celebfîn's place; bent over a plain barrel, leggings pooling around his ankles and completely at Thranduil's mercy. Feverishly, Legolas arched his back in his sleep. He could almost feel his _ada_ pounding into him for real, though it was only a dream. The King stretched his virgin portal relentlessly, not minding the excruciating pain he elicited in his son. Quite the contrary, for some reason his _ada_ seemed to revel in the fact he was causing Legolas distress, the filthy words he whispered into the younger Elf's ears were all demeaning, Thranduil purposefully shamed Legolas with every syllable he uttered. He literally tortured his son with the idea of others watching him as he willingly spread his legs for the King, the whole court condemning him for being nothing but a mere whore.

Legolas could not understand why this was turning him on so much, his aching length trapped between himself and the keg as he surrendered to the rough manhandling. Yet the young Prince couldn't tear away his gaze from Celebfîn, who hid in the shadows between the barrels openly and happily masturbating, intently staring back at the incestuous couple.

Confused, Legolas found that Celebfîn's blatant voyeurism actually egged him on. The sudden urge to 'perform' for the servant made him wiggle his rear, standing on his tiptoes to change the angle of penetration which allowed Thranduil to plunge even deeper than before...

Legolas woke with a start at the sensation of his father climaxing into his abused arse in copious amounts, only to find that he had come in his sleep. Bewildered, he looked at the mess he had made; the sheets he had stained would surely not go unnoticed. The Prince's cheeks turned beet-red, tears welling in his eyes at the shameful realisation of what just had happened.

A short time later, Legolas almost tiptoed into the breakfast room, hoping his father had already been and gone, and he was relieved to find he had the table to himself. In truth, he'd contemplated breakfasting in his room, and avoiding his father for a little longer, but then he might have had the mortification of the laundry maid stripping the sheets from his bed while he was present… Legolas shuddered, and made his way to the counter for some oats and nuts. Better that he was away from his room for the time being.

"Good morning, _ion nín_ ," said his father from behind him, having entered the breakfast room while Legolas was daydreaming. He turned, unable to help remembering all the wicked words Thranduil had said in his dream, and the praise he had earned... His father had a certain kind of magnetism, and Legolas noticed it now more than ever, because he'd felt the full force of it in his dreams. He drew in a breath as he tried to reconcile his dream with his real _ada_ , acting completely normally. He suddenly felt slightly dizzy.

"Good morning, _ada_ ," he responded, his eyes wide as Thranduil reached around him for some fruit from the counter. His body heat was so close, so real. Legolas closed his eyes, then reluctantly moved away, settling himself in his seat.

His father seated himself opposite, with his usual fare. Though Legolas was sure it was only his imagination, he could not help wondering if perhaps his father's smile was a little too broad. There was a kind of infernal twinkling in his eyes, and Legolas could not help remembering coming to face with what his father fantasised about.

What he himself fantasised about, if his dreams were any indication. He watched Thranduil eat, his own mouth dry.

"You left the feast early last night," Thranduil noted, without looking at him. "Did you overindulge?"

"Perhaps a little, _ada_ ," Legolas replied, and then as if to add to his shame, Celebfîn entered the room to see if they required anything hot to eat.

His father did not, but because he usually did, Legolas asked for some eggs and toasted bread. He did not want to rouse any suspicion in his father, but he could not quite bring himself to meet Celebfîn's eyes.

When his food arrived, Celebfîn lingered until he looked up, a customary word of thanks on his lips. He saw in Celebfîn the same fear he felt himself, and he shook his head slightly, his eyes widening: he would not tell. Celebfîn smiled at him in relief, and wished him a good breakfast, then departed with a last lingering look at Thranduil, who did not even acknowledge the servant's presence.

Unbeknownst to Legolas, Thranduil secretly observed the Prince's every facial expression as they sat together, enjoying their breakfast in mutual silence. The boy seemed flustered and uneasy for some reason, his cheeks flushed and his breathing hitching every now and again. Furthermore, Legolas kept his eyes averted most of the time, concentrating on the food on his plate intently...

Despite his better judgement Thranduil couldn't help but let his imagination run wild, picturing his son accompanying him to one of the many endless, boring court meetings the King had to endure day in and day out. Legolas would kneel between Thranduil's legs, preferably stark naked as he rested his chin on the edge of the throne. Hands and arms behind his back, no sound would escape his lips but occasional choking noises caused by the King's flaccid cock hitting the back of his throat. Thranduil might run his fingers through the Prince's golden tresses just as though he would pet a dog. Legolas would do a fine job of keeping his Ada's length comfy, cosy and warm in obedient submission, thriving on the name calling and degrading stream of abuse that was showered on him by both his father and the court's attendants. They would no longer respect the hitherto proud Prince once he'd been degraded to nothing but a filthy whore, a mere toy to be used at his father's sadistic whim.

In his little fantasies, Thranduil revelled in the idea of his son being subject to plentiful variations of humiliation and sexual subjugation. And, unlike his morally torn son, Thranduil couldn't care less about enjoying those daydreams in the fullest!

They were only fantasies after all, no harm done. Or so he thought...

When the kinky dream had finished with Thranduil's mind, the King cleared his throat audibly, startling Legolas.

"I should like you to attend me today, Legolas, whilst I hold court," Thranduil said, and Legolas was dismayed. Even without the secret shame of having seen his father with the servant, or his dreams the night just gone, Legolas hated to be cooped up in the palace.

In fact, at a time like this, he would clear the cobwebs in his mind better if he were out in the trees with the rest of his patrol, but he merely nodded in acquiescence. Every now and again his father required him to observe what happened at court, so that he would be well prepared for it perhaps, if he ever had to take up the reign of the woodland realm. Little did Thranduil know that Legolas had become more and more convinced as the decades passed that he would never wish to be King. That indeed if it ever came to that, he might well pass the title on to someone more personally suited to the role.

As the day passed, Legolas felt his discomfort ease. Spending time around his father had been good for him, despite his reservations. It had made certain he did not continue to see those private moments every time he glanced at the King, and that was good. Thranduil seemed to look at him very often though, and Legolas wondered if he knew somehow that he'd been observed. But then his father would not merely glance at him if that was the case. He'd insist on having it out in private, and giving Legolas a good dressing down for voyeurism. Perhaps.

He felt tired after attending the throne room. Perhaps his dreams had stopped him from resting properly, and so he spent the later afternoon and evening in bed, drowsing tiredly until dinner. He fell asleep quickly, but his dreams had not done with him, not by a long shot.

Legolas found himself back in the throne room, with his father holding court, and yet he was naked. It was shocking, and Legolas looked around him wildly at the assembled elves, yet none of them seemed to notice anything was amiss, hardly glancing at him.

"Legolas!" rapped out his father. "Come serve me," he said, just as if they were sat at table for their evening meal.

Serve?! Legolas was disconcerted by the request. Whatever could his father mean by such a request? Was he expected to fetch and carry for him? Legolas approached the throne in the way of dreams, accepting his own nakedness the way the crowd of gathered elves did, the way his father did. He fell to his knees in front of his father as he might usually do during ceremonial matters, and opened his mouth to ask what the King required of him.

"Come closer," urged the King before Legolas himself could speak, spreading his legs to make room. "Place your chin here," he ordered tapping the edge of the oversized throne. Legolas gulped, but did as he was commanded, shuffling forward on his knees, completely mystified.

"Put your hands behind your back," Thranduil snapped, "else I shall have someone bind them there for you." Chastised, Legolas did as he was bid, putting his hands behind his back and lacing his fingers together so that his chest was pushed out and his shoulders square. His posture made it seem even more humiliating to rest his chin when the King wanted it, and still Legolas didn't understand, until he saw Thranduil unlacing his breeches right in front of his face.

Legolas, shocked, did not dare to move, not even when his father opened his mouth with blunt fingers and eased the length of his soft cock inside. He was overcome with a sense of inevitability. As if, by submitting to the more innocent commands had stolen his ability to protest. He stretched his mouth wide, in case he should inadvertently hurt Thranduil with his teeth, feeling the warmth of the cock lying against his tongue. After just a few moments, he felt saliva dribbling from the corners of his lips, cooling on his skin, but he did not dare to swallow, and lessen the space inside his mouth.

"There," Thranduil said, as if satisfied. "Now you are at last in your rightful place, we may begin!" His father spoke as if this was a ceremonial ritual he performed, as if he had performed it many times before, and Legolas' mind was in a whirl of contradiction. Sexual awareness combined with duty, and the two did not really mix. Was he dreaming?

"Oh," said Thranduil, holding up a forbidding hand to his advisors, who had started forward with documents and proclamations for him to deal with. "Just one thing, Legolas." He obligingly looked up with his eyes from the humiliating position, and his father must enjoy seeing him that way, because he felt a gentle hand in his hair, sliding through it, and he realised he had not even braided his hair! He was naked, with loose hair, worse even than a commoner! No rank at all in the eyes of those present. Legolas felt the heat that rose in his cheeks.

"If you get me hard," Thranduil told him, wiggling a finger near his face in an affectionate fashion, "I'll have to fuck Celebfîn in full view of the court again, and you know how they like to goad me on. So be good for his sake, and keep very still, hmm?"

Celebfîn, who looked so much like him... Legolas longed to gulp, but did not dare. He tried to nod, only then realising he had disobeyed the King's instruction already. He made a sound of regret, and that too was wrong. Legolas felt the tears in his eyes a moment before his vision blurred. Thranduil moved forward a little, and Legolas' breathing was suddenly obstructed, a choking sound coming from his mouth before he made certain to breathe through his nose.

"Very good. Looks like no harm was done," Thranduil said, still petting his hair. "You are such a naturally obedient submissive, _ion nín_ ," he said, still affectionate, and it made something break inside Legolas. "To think that once you were the Crown Prince." His father laughed strangely. "It is clear where your true abilities lie, Legolas. In giving pleasure to me and to the whole realm when they see you serve me so prettily."

He wanted to deny it, but could not without moving, and he did not want to move for he did not want to cause his father to carry out his threat to hurt the servant, who had done neither of them any wrong. It did not even occur to Legolas to think Celebfîn might want such treatment. His understanding in those matters was naive and incomplete.

Thranduil never did back down when he voiced an intention, and he imagined Celebfîn being made to take that in front of the gathered audience. He could easily imagine how the court would watch such a spectacle too… after all, weren't they watching this? His own debasement?

He realised with a kind of detached horror that his father had moved on to discussing matters of state, as if his cock was not… was not… Legolas swallowed delicately, and felt a pulse in the King's flesh. He stilled, and just let the drool escape helplessly, his head motionless while his body shook with the strain of holding his position. His conscious mind seemed to fade in and out as his ordeal continued unabated. He wasn't really paying attention to what was happening around him, but every now and again his father would lean forward to take a document or look at something more closely. At those times, he would push into Legolas' mouth, making him almost choke.

It was not just his father who was acting as if this was an everyday occurrence. The elves around them were fully engaged in matters of state, as if Legolas were not even there. The only acknowledgement of his existence came from his father, whose fingers occasionally strayed to Legolas' hair to stroke him, who sometimes murmured praise. Legolas blushed at those times, because even then he still wanted that praise, longed for it, and several times he turned his eyes up to his father as if to ask for his attention.

Legolas jerked half awake to the sound of the dinner gong, and with a strangely sensual moan. "I'm sorry, ada," he said automatically, his mouth watering in the dream at the thought of dinner, his mouth which was still clinging lovingly to his father's soft cock.

Then he woke up properly, lifting his head from the pillow and wiping at the drool which had escaped from the side of his mouth with distaste. His pillow was wet with it! Sighing, he prepared himself to face the evening meal, aware that it would quite as difficult to face his father now as it had been that morning. Why was he having these dreams? Legolas was distraught as he changed his rumpled clothing. There was no one he could speak to about them. He would just have to carry on as best he could.

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 **AN/:** Thank you for reading; we hope you enjoyed it! :)


	3. Convergence

It wasn't only emotionally difficult to face his father, it was physically challenging as well, since as soon as Legolas walked into the dining hall and saw Thranduil there, his gaze dropped automatically to his father's crotch. He didn't mean to do it, and he prayed no one had noticed as he quickly looked away and made his way to the table.

At least, unlike breakfast, he needn't serve himself. His food would be brought to him. Legolas waited patiently, the hum of conversation ebbing and flowing around him as he sat quietly. He realised he could pick out his father's own tones amongst the voices, and was horrified to find his body responding to it against his will.

He shuffled his chair further into the table, only for his father to pass by him, ruffling his hair. "Whatever is wrong, Legolas?" he asked. "You are quiet."

Legolas bit back the gasp his father's innocent action drew from him. It was impossible! And yet it was happening. Under the table he could feel his cock drawing out, thick, hot and heavy against his left leg. He licked his lips, aware that there was not only himself and his _ada_ here, nor only the servants. The King shared his dinner table with the advisors and counsellors that made up the bulk of the court. This could not be happening here!

"Nothing, _ada_ ," he managed. "I just feel a little out of sorts."

His explanation appeared to draw several troubled glances, not least from Thranduil himself. Legolas tried not to catch their eyes, the memory of the dream fully upon him. They had all been characters in it.

Usually, his father would take the head of the table, and Legolas had seated himself some distance away on purpose, so he was taken by surprise when his father took the chair beside him, regarding him thoughtfully.

"Serve me," he said after a moment, and Legolas jumped, startled. He knew he must look awfully guilty, and it was at least half a minute before Legolas understood his father was referring to the wine, which was within Legolas' reach, but out of Thranduil's.

He poured it with shaking hands, his erection hard as rock under the table, unseen. A flush was creeping up from his neck, and the more he tried to stop it, the worse it became. Thranduil's hands came to cover his, and he looked into his father's eyes helplessly.

"I think we shall talk after the meal, _ion nín_ ," he said. "Something has clearly happened to upset you, and I will know what it is."

Legolas' heart hammered in his chest, his cock leaping eagerly at his father's words, spoken so casually, but with supreme confidence. _Dominantly_ … his mind supplied, and Legolas swallowed.

"Yes, _ada_ ," he responded weakly.

How he got through that meal time, Legolas would never remember. His father was so attentive it tortured him for the longest time, but eventually his arousal died down sometime over dessert. Relieved, he stood up to escape the situation before it could return, only to find Thranduil was following him.

A heavy arm draped around his shoulders as he was steered silently in the direction of his father's personal rooms. Suddenly, Legolas turned, finding himself facing his father who did not move out of his way.

"Really, I don't need to talk about it," he babbled, nervous. "I am quite all right now," he said, smiling. Thranduil arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, you do need to talk, if only to satisfy me. In there," Thranduil commanded, nodding to his door. Legolas actually backed away, gulping, feeling for the door handle at his back and slipping inside his father's room. He heard the click as the door was closed and locked behind them. Now he was trapped, and he could not think of a thing to say that would explain his erratic behaviour.

At the words 'if only to satisfy me' Legolas' imagination had run wild; something that seemed to happen much more frequently now. To the young Prince's chagrin, fragments of his nocturnal wet dreams had started to blur with his waking hours. His mind and body constantly played tricks on him and he was driven mad with unquenched desire and endless shame.

"I don't know what I am supposed to tell you, _Ada,_ " Legolas croaked, mouth dry as he nervously let his eyes roam the King's private quarters, desperate to look anywhere but at his father.

Thranduil led his son to a straight wooden chair and bade him sit down upon it. Something had been very off in Legolas' behaviour all day, and he would know what it was. Thranduil lounged against his own desk, facing Legolas. Little did Legolas know this was how he interrogated servants, looming over them as they trembled in that very chair.

"Legolas. You have all the look of yourself at sixty years old when you sneaked into my wine cellar and broke a bottle of my favourite Dorwinion." He smirked. "Have you been sneaking around in there again, or is it something else this time?"

Legolas felt the blush on his cheeks intensify. The memory of what he had witnessed in the cellar between his father and Celebfîn came to life again before his inner eye. Little beads of sweat formed on the Prince's nape, making his skin itch as they ran down his back slowly. Legolas gulped under the King's scrutiny, but he kept his head down, eyes desperately fixed on a beautifully sculpted tile on the floor.

"I..." Legolas started to explain, but his voice cracked. "I..." he tried again, swallowing hard as he tried to find the right words to admit to his poking about without giving away too much. "I might have been in the wine cellar at an inappropriate time, that much is true." Legolas admitted uneasily. His eyes darted up. "But I didn't break anything, I swear!"

Thranduil laughed inwardly. Really! It was to be hoped Legolas was never captured by the enemy or he would let go of Eryn Galen's defence arrangements at the first glance. Standing up straight, he circled the chair in a predatory manner, never letting his gaze leave Legolas' face.

By 'inappropriate time' Thranduil could only assume Legolas had seen him in there with Celebfîn. It was a favourite place of theirs to go, since they would be undisturbed. Now behind Legolas, Thranduil reached out to touch his shoulders, deliberately squeezing to ease the tension there. Thranduil did not care about being observed, but why would it affect Legolas so?

"Something was broken in there," Thranduil murmured suggestively, letting his meaning remain unclear, still working those muscles with his hands. "Was it you, I wonder?"

Legolas was surprised that he leaned into Thranduil's firm touch so easily, but then again, he'd always been very close to his father. That definitely included physical contact, too, however it was his own physical reaction to the familiar touch that worried him so. Warmth started to spread all over him, starting where the King eased Legolas' strained muscles, over his torso and finally pooling in his crotch where it provoked yet another unbidden response. Much to his horror, Legolas realised that once more he was sporting a growing erection.

"Why would I be broken by being in your wine cellar?" Legolas rasped, deciding that it would buy him some time if he feigned ignorance.

Thranduil could not believe the evidence of his eyes, and yet there it was; Legolas was becoming aroused under the touch of his hands, no doubt aided by what he'd seen in the cellar. Deciding not to jump to conclusions just yet, Thranduil slid his hands forward and down over Legolas' chest. Even through his clothing, Thranduil could feel the hard pebbles of Legolas' nipples beneath his palms.

"I assure you," Thranduil whispered seductively, "you have been broken in by me many times in there. Celebfîn is nothing if not a marvellous actor."

Thranduil smiled, stood up straight, and went to lean against his desk again, making no secret of looking at Legolas' straining erection where it tented his leggings. "You say one thing, _bain neth nín_ , but your body says something else entirely."

With one elegant hand, Thranduil picked up a small silver bell from his desk. "Speak the truth now, or would you rather I summon him? He will perform for both of us. Or… would you rather keep this private?"

Thranduil's forthright physical exploration left Legolas gasping for breath, not believing his ears. "So you're saying..." He began, his lower lip starting to tremble in utter disbelief as he feared his dreams would merge with reality once more. "Celebfîn bearing an uncanny resemblance to me is no mere coincidence?"

Legolas sat stark and stiff when realisation started to sink in. "You...you've been thinking about me...that way?"

The young Prince didn't even hear his father's idle threat of summoning Celebfîn, his mind was too occupied with processing the shocking secret that had been unveiled.

Thranduil watched Legolas' stumbling reaction and began to lose his patience. He did not want to summon Celebfîn, but he must know if Legolas' rather interesting physical response was for him or the servant. If it was for him, then Legolas had time to make up, and Thranduil would make certain he did it, beginning this very evening.

When Legolas continued to stammer and stutter his way through useless questions, Thranduil stepped forward once more, placing a palm around the back of Legolas' neck and drawing him gracefully to his feet.

"I said," he intoned, looking deeply into Legolas' eyes. "Would you like to summon Celebfîn here, or is _this_ ," - here he reached down with his other hand and dragged his knuckles up over the ridge of the hard cock in Legolas' leggings - "only between us?"

Legolas flinched when his father's knuckles made brief contact with his cock which gave an eager twitch in response. He feared he would soil his leggings if he didn't get any form of release soon.

"Between us!" Legolas blurted hastily, now fully aware of the embarrassing consequences of having his father's favourite play toy join their little party. Apart from that, another emotion arose from the turmoil of his mind. "I hold no feelings for Celebfîn other than..." Legolas swallowed. "Other than envy."

Torn, the Prince closed his eyes, then timidly leaned into Thranduil's provocative touch, clearly trembling. This felt much better than it ought to. "I can't help those weird feelings, I'm so sorry, _Ada_." Legolas sobbed.

Thranduil blinked. He was _sorry_? Then a split second later, he felt a wicked grin on his face. Oh, yes, this was perfect. If Legolas wished to be sorry, then he would make certain the emotion was well-deserved.

Quickly, hiding his amusement before Legolas could open his eyes and see it, Thranduil let him go, seeing him stagger slightly. "And so you should be sorry," he said. "I merely fantasise, while you stand here aroused at my touch. Why, if such were to happen at court, how you would embarrass me!"

Legolas was trembling now, looking at him with wide eyes. "I can see only one solution, _ion nín_ ," Thranduil said sternly, then sighed. "I shall have to satisfy these lusts of yours by night so they do not interfere with the smooth running of this realm by day."

He paused, giving his words time to sink in, making sure to appear less than pleased at the prospect. "Yes, that is the way of it." He nodded sharply towards the bed. "Go to the bed and undress, Legolas."

"I'm so sorry!" Legolas repeated in a weak mumble, his eyes darting to and fro in renewed confusion. There he was, thinking his confession would free him, but all he gained was _punishment_. Wait, punishment? What was it his father had said? It was hard for the Prince to think clearly; embarrassment, fear and arousal fighting for dominance in him. The commanding, strict tone of voice of his father didn't help either, adding another emotion to the bunch: curiosity.

Hence, Legolas did as he was told, slowly shedding away his tunic and leggings, even though reluctantly, as he made his way over to the royal bed, head bowed and face flushed.

Following him, Thranduil decided to have a little fun first, beforehand. It would also give Legolas a chance to escape this situation, if he really wished it. So thinking, Thranduil drew up a chair to the side of the bed, and made no secret of drinking in the sight of his grown son's naked body.

"So, you saw us in the wine cellar, and you wished to be in his place. Is that it?" he asked, beginning a short interrogation which should quickly get to the heart of the matter.

Legolas flinched in tortured embarrassment. "I...I did, _Ada_." he stuttered helplessly, the glowing blush of his cheeks spreading to the tips of his pointy ears. "And yes, I couldn't help but wonder," Legolas swallowed hard. "What it would be like to be in Celebfîn's place." The Prince admitted nervously, careful to keep his gaze averted and trained on a spot on the marble floor. "You must think very lowly of me now." Legolas concluded bitterly.

Thranduil heaved a great breath and sat back, seeing how it affected Legolas. He was very beautiful when he was uncertain of himself. Without so much as reaching out towards him, Thranduil crossed one leg over the other and appeared to deliberate, making his gorgeous son wait.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said at last, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Now tell me _why_ you wished to be in his place, and perhaps I will be lenient with you, _ion nín_."

Legolas' head darted up as he looked at his father in puzzlement. "Why?" he repeated, clearly overwhelmed with the question. "I...I'm not sure. I," Legolas groped for words, realising he had never thought about the why indeed! "I was just so stunned by...you...and it was such a completely unrestrained side of you I've never seen before." Legolas eventually tried after some intense thinking, recalling his father's otherwise often icy demeanour all too well. "Also," the young Prince continued, his voice wavering a bit. "I was under the impression that you made Celebfîn feel...really good, despite the way you treated him."

Legolas wording was clumsy; the realisation of his burning need for being dominated by the King was not sinking in as of yet. The confused Prince couldn't name the odd craving that was making his blood boil, couldn't understand his twisted desire to submit.

Moving to sit on the side of the bed, Thranduil smiled to hide his disappointment. "So you disliked the way I treated him?" he queried. He put a hand out to Legolas' knee, letting his fingers stroke the skin on the inside of Legolas' lower thigh. "You wish merely for my touch, is that it?"

It was confusing though. If Legolas merely wished for erotic sensation, he could approach any elf as a lover for that. Another possibility raised itself in the King's mind immediately, and it was one he could not dispel.

" _Ion nín_ ," he said with some regret. "Have I been so cold to you that you would dare so much just to be close to me?" He'd kept some distance between them, that was true, and it had been for his own benefit. His fantasies about Legolas had come upon him suddenly, in twisted and sordid dreams he could not ignore.

"No!" Legolas exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. "It's not like I despise your actions, not at all!" Then the Prince's shoulders slumped in renewed shame. "Quite the contrary, really," he confessed, wincing when he felt his father's long, elegant fingers caress the sensitive, ticklish skin of his inner thigh.

"Your game with Celebfîn made me feel...weird...and left me hot all over," Legolas continued, almost choking on his words as he recalled the night in the wine-cellar. "I felt drawn to you in a way I never...felt for you before."

Again, Legolas words were awkward and vague, the young Prince neither able to comprehend his feelings nor express them properly.

"As for your touch," Legolas mumbled, an unspoken desire glistening in his dilated pupils as he spoke. "Of course I crave it, I always have." The Prince replied innocently, revelling in the memory of the days before his father had started to withhold his affections from him, leaving Legolas sad, yet he never addressed his worries. "Wouldn't any elf?"

He could not know how appealing his little confessions were, Thranduil decided. So unsure and uncertain. Embarrassed, too - Thranduil noted that. He moved his hands up to Legolas' face, allowing no escape, turning Legolas' head so that he would have to look right into Thranduil's eyes.

"Do you crave humiliation, Legolas?" he asked. His own dreams had confused him, but if Legolas was having them too… "Do you dream of it?" He laid his forehead gently against Legolas' own.

"If I were to claim you as my secret lover, that would be one thing," he said softly. "But what if I were to berate you for lusting after your own father as I did so? What if I were to name your behaviour for what it is?" He paused, judging the moment to the exact second. "Are you asking to be my slut, Legolas?"

Eyes growing wide in shock, Legolas gasped. Did he crave humiliation? The word had so much negative connotation to it, Legolas thought. And yet again, on second thought it pretty much hit the nail right on the head.

"I think I do crave it." The Prince whispered, his mouth going dry. "My dreams have been full of it as of late." He added, both relief and another wave of embarrassment washing over him as he did so. Nevertheless, he felt himself calm down a bit at the tender gesture of his father leaning his forehead against him. No one could soothe him like his _Ada_ , despite the delicate topic.

At Thranduil's provocative wording, Legolas broke the connection in instinctive shock. He tried to ignore the thrill that rushed through him in response to the indecent proposal of becoming the King's slut.

Instantly Thranduil wondered what the exact nature of those dreams were, and if they matched his own. Why, just before dinner he had been indulging in the most pleasant daydream of having Legolas serve him while he held court, in front of everyone!

Even though he really did want to take Legolas, he couldn't resist wanting to see that dream play out, even if needs must it was only between the two of them.

"Then behave like a slut, if that is what you are," he suggested. "Serve me on your knees, _ion_. You can start by using your mouth on my cock."


End file.
